Death of Random Evils
by OdileWasAGirl
Summary: Death as seen through Dean's eyes. mature content  deanofc  AU oneshot


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title death  
**author** lorilie  
**pairings** dean / ofc  
**rating** mature  
**beta** un-beta'd

"Death is not the worst evil, but rather when we wish to die and cannot" - SOPHOCLES

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Death

Her funeral is nothing like I expected. I'm not sure what I thought it would be, but it was…just different.

The day she died all I could think about was how much **I** hurt. How much **I **missed her. How broken **I** felt. It made my stomach turn to think I was the only person who would know life was different without her. _This is why you don't get close to people--ever--never again. _What if I was the only person to cry over her…not that I cried. I tried too, thought maybe I'd feeling better if I did. She was gone and I had been determined to make sure I would never forget her. I owed her that much…but painful memories have a way of disappearing.

Sam took over shortly after he realized I couldn't cope. He tracked down her family, made the arrangements. Not that I've had known what to do anyway. My first thought was to salt her burn her…fucked up as it is. There are few things in life I **can't** just 'tough out'…this was one of them. Mark my words, it will never happen again.

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She must have been terrified; It was the only thing I could think kneeling over her broken body. There was so much blood it was hard to distinguish open wounds from the rest of her. She was nothing but raw flash and gore.

Somewhere is the middle of it all I threw up on myself, I didn't realize until later when my cloths began to emit a sour stench that in turn caused me to vomit yet again. All I can really remember was blood, blood on my hands, blood down the front of my shirt as I grabbed desperately at a lifeless corpse. I should have been there, I can almost hear her calling for me, praying that someone would come to rescue her. Of all the people Sam and I have saved…we didn't save her.

I've run a thousand scenarios in my head, the worst of them sticking and playing again and again until I can't breath. I can hear her screaming, begging for her life. I see her frightened and alone. I watch her die…**alone**.

Then I feel like the biggest fucking asshole to walk the planet. I hear her screaming for me. Screaming for me to save her life and I can't help but think about all the _other_ times I heard her call my name. I replay her last fleeting moment of life when she was gagging on her own blood and I hear the little noises she'd make in the back of her throat when she sucked my dick. I close my eyes for a moment, remembering how it felt to be on top of her, between her legs, inside her. I think about how in a shit-stain motel in Iowa I'd bent her over an end table and fucked her again and again until there were bruises on her hips in the shape of my hands.

I feel guilty and dirty and I wish I hadn't even come to her funeral. Fuck all this. Caskets and flowers and forced tears. It's all bullshit that supposed to help…help to find closure-whatever the hell that is. You don't get over something like this, you just push to the back of your mind until you're able to keep it there. You learn to file memories like these in the back room of your brain, recollections like this only to be unlocked after too much whiskey.

I'm almost ready to store her away and forget her smell and her smile. Almost.

I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of people, men and women dressed in black pouring in from every direction. Mia never spoke much about her family and from the little she had shared I half anticipated a well-mannered, stoic memorial. Instead all I saw was pain. For the first time since I'd found her choking on her own blood I felt something close to comfort knowing I wasn't alone in morning her.

Although I've never met her, I recognize her mother the instant I see her. Her daughter had born a stunning resemblance, same slender build, long dark hair and bright blue eyes. Mia would have looked like her mother had she lived. I can imagine her in thirty years, with laugh lines and children. Still beautiful. Her mother knew who I was as soon as she laid eyes on me, looking back I'm not sure how. Somewhere in the haze of the day I remember her hugging me limply and then crying briefly into my shoulder. She murmured something about knowing Mia had cared for me and offered Sam and I a place to stay in town.

I ended up wearing a black suit, not because of 'funeral black,' but because she would have wanted me too. She always had respect for tradition. I end up sitting the back row, Sam was next to me although I can't remember seeing him. I was all sweat and tunnel vision--fucking caskets. She shouldn't be in a wood box buried in the ground. _She never liked small spaces_.

For a moment I feel suddenly desperate. I can't breath again and the room's spinning_. I'll make deal with what-or who ever I need to. I just need five minutes with her_…I just need to tell her what I should have when she was here. FUCK. I want to crawl into her coffin, wrap myself around her and _put us both in the Goddamn dirt._

Several people stand up in front and speak and then there's the pageant to view a body they can't even see. Instead of getting in line for the macabre parade, I follow Sam to the car and we wait for the funeral procession.

It easy to tell what plot will be her final resting place. Her grave is freshly dug and as I move closer I can smell the new dirt in wet, heavy air. Sam hands me an umbrella, and says something but I can't hear him--my hears have been ringing for an hour.

Her Mother is front of me again, still with tears in her eyes. She touches my arm and introduces me to a tall, gray haired man in his forties. She calls me Mia's boyfriend _and I want to spit on her_. I was a lot of things to Mia, but the term 'boyfriend' was one she would have _never_ used. It's a hallow sounding term and makes me think of kids in the fifties going to the drive in to drink malts and then driving down to lover's lane. It's a shallow, superficial name that doesn't even scratch the surface of what she was to me. But I muster a smile, shake his hand and I'm almost relived when the priest begins speaking.

When they begin to lower her into the ground I feel panic. This can't be the end--I should find a Voodoo priest, someone that still practices the old religion to see if they can bring her back. Maybe Bobby knows someone…I should have called Ellen to ask. _I am irrational_. Maybe she's not really dead and this is some trick a fucked up demon is playing.

Then I relive it all one last time to let myself know what's done is done. Her bleeding out on the floor of the motel room. Blood gurgling in her throat as I lift up her head. For a split second I think maybe there's a chance to save her, but it's just her body going through the motions of death. Her eyes are still open but there's nothing there. I want there to be enough of her left to look at me -- to know that I'm here with her, she's not going alone.

It's too late for that.

Then there's something else…a wholly different moment that pops back into my head. She laying next to me, naked, sweating and all giggles. She rolls half on top of me as I try to catch my breath as well.

"Where did **that** come from?" She laughs resting her chin on my chest. I run a hand up her arm, and around her shoulder until I'm cupping the back of her head.

"I've been saving up for ya" I smile my best "little boy" grin and she props herself up, swinging a leg over my waist so that she's laying on me, pressing her stomach and chest flush into mine.

"I see" she raises an eyebrow and runs a hand down the side of my face. I can't feel a slow

trickle of the wetness from between her legs being rubbed into the skin right above my crotch where she's stretched out to straddle me. I think for moment about the fact that her juices dripping are also a combination of my own spunk leaking from between her legs and my dick is hard again in an instant. "Dean?" She whispers, kissing the side of my jaw lightly.

"Yeah?" I'm not really listening, instead choosing to cup her ass cheeks in each hand.

"If anything ever happens to one of us-" I cut her off with a groan, using one hand to grip her waist so that I can roll on top of her. I flip her onto her back before she can say anything else, resting my hips between her legs.

"Are you actually tying to have this conversation **right now**?" I ask leaving a trail of wet open mouthed kissed from under her ear down her collar bone.

"Hey" she not having any of it and brings my face up to hers with both hands. "If anything happens to one of us…I want you to think of this--like we are right now."

"Horny?" I'm only half joking as I finally meet her gaze, while at the same time rolling my hips so that she can feel my hard-on rubbing her thigh for added effect.

"Happy." She corrects me semi-sternly. "In love and wanting each other." I sigh and rub my nose into hers as I kiss her.

"I will" I murmur against her lips, I understand what she's saying but there are more pressing issues at hand. **I have never been a patient person **"So are going to have sex now or what**?" I'm also blunt.**

She laughs, mostly, I'm guessing at how serious I sound. No more is said about her 'needing to clarify how we will remember each other' and I fuck her until I can't see strait.

It's a nice memory, but it's going to be stored away with the rest of my Mia collection. No matter how hard I try, the last image I'll have of her is _blood and fear_. I don't do anything half way, and I won't pick and choose what I remember about her…So I'll try to get rid of it all.

We're walking away from the gravesite and all of a sudden I'm thinking about the River Styx…It was the one story about death that stuck with me from childhood. I wish I would have placed a coin under her tongue…wish I would have made sure she had her passage for the ferryman. I shake the thought away, banishing all never-realized wishes from my head. As I get into the Impala I'm already starting building up the walls I'll need to hide her behind. In a couple days I'll be good as new…_I will_.

I ask Sam about the case we'd been headed to when all this happened…three unexplained deaths in Arkansas. Sam's quiet for a minute, looking at me and then too the people filing way her tombstone. We both sit in one last moment of silence, I let myself think of her as she was. Then I shut the door to all things Mia, _maybe with time I'll even forget her name_.

I start the car and pull out onto the road. I'm ready for a hunt.


End file.
